PHASE TWO INITIATED
by Elialys
Summary: 'It was raining on that Side. Pain still rippled through her entire being, and she moaned loudly, curled up on the ground, rain falling hard on her. But she had to get up.' Post Entrada fic. Chapter 4 posted.
1. Chapter One

**Title:** PHASE TWO INITIATED

**Spoilers**: Up to 3x09 'Marionette'.

**Rating**: K?

**N/A**: This is a Christmas gift for one of my dearest fandom friend, Anne (liebeanne here on ffnet = READ HER FICS!). We adore each other, so I asked her what she wanted.

Yesterday, she gave me a character prompt, just a name. And there came the plot bunny that you are about to read. It is a plot bunny alright, planned out and written all within 5 hours (and late at night of course lol), but it is by no mean a light read.

I really hope you will give it a try anyway :) Enjoy!

(Sorry for the mistakes, still not betaed)

**

* * *

PHASE TWO INITIATED****

* * *

  
**

Olivia Dunham didn't deal well with pain.

That wasn't surprising. She loved control a little too much to be comfortable with her body fogging her mind with jolts of pain.

She had always been tough, though. She didn't like it, but she dealt with it as well as she could when she had to.

She had broken her arm when she was seven. She always was too much of a daredevil, she knew that; her mother used to say that she would die falling from a tree one day. She hadn't die, but her arm had broken pretty badly –the kind of broken bones that pierce through the skin. Rachel had vomited all over the place.

She had been in fights at school. Had broken one of her teeth falling from her bike, gotten another concussion falling from a motorcycle. She was in a car crash when she was nineteen. In her line of work, she had taken quite a few blows, had been beaten up, almost drowned once, cut and strangled.

She had dealt with it all, telling herself that she was not a weak woman. She was strong and brave, and showing your high dislike of pain would only make the world think that you were weak. Unworthy.

Still. She didn't deal well with pain.

And the pain she was in, right now?

Oh God. She simply wanted to _die_. Which was pretty ironic, come to think of it.

The pain had jerked her awake less than twenty minutes ago. At first, she'd hoped really hard that it was nothing, just some of the dull aches she had been feeling on and off for the last few weeks.

It wasn't. This was the real thing.

Still, she didn't move. She just lay there, in that foreign bed, her face turned into the pillow, one of her hand clenching it hard, as pain regularly rippled through her core. This was happening. Not only was she hurting like she had never hurt before, but she was also scared to death.

She knew what had to be done, now. There was no more postponing it, as much as she wished she could just turn back time. She just wanted for things to go back to how they were a year ago.

But now was not the time for regrets. It was too late for that. And as if to prove a point, pain swallowed her whole again, and she moaned, loudly.

"Olivia?"

She heard her mother's voice, heard her come out of bed and rush to her side. But she couldn't move at the moment, waiting for the pain to subside again. She barely felt her cold hand on her sweaty forehead.

When she was able to breathe again, she turned her head to look at her. Even in the darkness of the room, she could see the worry on her face. The sorrow, too.

They both knew this was it.

"Should I call her?" She asked softly.

Olivia wished she could say no, that it was just a false alarm. She wished she could turn back time.

But she couldn't.

So she closed her eyes, another kind of pain crushing her heart, and she felt tears burning beneath her eyelids. "Yes…it's time." She whispered.

Her left hand was still gripping the pillow, as the right one held her round belly tight, her fingers slightly digging into the tensed skin.

There was no turning back.

She might not be ready, but her baby was.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

Getting her pregnant was the Secretary's idea, of course.

Agreeing on it was hers, though.

And as for pretty much the rest of the whole mission, she quickly came to regret it bitterly.

Of course, he hadn't really explained the whole thing to her at the time. His messages on the typewriter were cryptic at best. All that she knew was what he had told her the very first time:

"**PHASE 1: GET PETER TO WORK ON THE MACHINE AND HELP HIM FIND PIECES. GET INTIMATE IF NOT ALREADY WITH OTHER OLIVIA.**

**PHASE 2: ONCE INTIMATE, DO NOT TRY AND STOP CHANCES OF PROCREATION. IT'S ESSENTIAL FOR THE SURVIVAL OF OUR WORLD**."

This had left her quite confused, to say the least. All she wanted to type back was "**ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?"**

She hadn't.

There were a lot of things she hadn't asked, hadn't really questioned. Because Newton had been right.

If she started questioning every little –or big- thing she was doing Here, she would soon be consumed by guilt and self-doubts. And she couldn't allow this to happen.

She had a mission.

And so she followed her orders, however strange and disturbing they might be.

She and Peter had gotten intimate. A lot of times.

Not once had they used protection. All she had to say was that she was "on the pill". Apparently in this world, it was a good way to prevent pregnancy, and most women used it. She didn't of course.

She hadn't thought about it much, then. She knew that every time they were falling into bed together, she was risking it –or helping it? But she ignored it all.

Just like she ignored the fact that it wasn't really her Peter was seeing, whenever he was looking at her. He was seeing _her_. Kissing _her_. Making love to _her._

No, she didn't think about it. She pretended it was all for her, and simply let herself be swallowed by the warmth of his body and the love in his touch.

Until it was all over, of course.

And she wasn't surprised at all when they asked her to go to the lab on Liberty Island, the very day she returned home, and they drew her blood.

"Congratulation, you're mission was a total success." The Secretary smiled at her, a little too brightly. "You are pregnant."

Pregnant.

Olivia didn't even _like_ kids. She never knew how to behave around them. They were…weird, and unpredictable. And noisy. So having kids of her own hadn't really been an option. She was still young anyway, she had time, right?

At least that was until Mr. Secretary of Defense took over her whole life, obviously.

So she was back to a home that felt foreign, after weeks away, with a _baby_ growing inside of her.

"Why was it so important for me to get pregnant?" She asked, because if she had to do this and everything that came with it, she thought she deserved to know.

He was still smiling in that creepy way. He was so different from Walter. She blocked the thought, though, because thinking of Walter made her think of Over There (or Here?), and then she was thinking of _him_.

"You, my dear, are now carrying the child that will save us all. As you know it, my son is indispensable when it comes to using the Machine. But as things are at the moment, especially now that he knows about the Switch, I doubt he will ever help us. Your child will fulfill his father's duty."

He just kept smiling, and she forced herself to smile too. But she actually felt nauseous –and she was sure it had nothing to do with morning sickness.

She knew what the Machine was for. She had spent enough hours in the lab along with Peter, Walter and Astrid to know by heart everything they had ever said about the damn thing. About its pieces. About Peter.

About how it was supposed to kill him.

Did the Secretary want her to carry and give birth to that child simply to kill him/her?

Even though she was home, Olivia didn't sleep that night.

And it had nothing to do with the fact that everything was the same and yet different, or that she was realizing that someone had taken over her life here as well, or that she couldn't fall asleep anymore without _him_ to snuggle with.

This was all wrong.

How could she do that?

She had done a lot of bad things in the last two months, she knew it –and it was all coming back at her hard, now that it was over.

But this…this was beyond wrong. This was _sick_.

So, she thought about termination, that night. She could always go to another State and get it done there. Lie to the Secretary and say that she'd had a miscarriage. They had told her that she wasn't even five weeks into the pregnancy. She could just…end it.

But she thought of her time Over There again.

She thought of that photo album on the other Olivia's bookshelf, the one she had looked through too many times.

Pictures of Rachel pregnant; pictures of a baby girl, tiny and beautiful. Oddly, she had thought that she looked more like herself than like her own mother. She had seen her grow up through the pages, seen her smiles and her pouts and her sleeping face.

She had never called them, while she was There, never met with them. Because she knew that she could never go back, if she had to say goodbye to Rachel again.

To the niece she never had.

So she had stared at those pictures for long minutes, picturing a life she would never have.

She thought of that baby girl.

The first night Olivia spent back in her apartment, she spent most of it in the bathroom, throwing up and crying. She blamed it all on the hormones confusing her body.

But when morning came, she knew that she would get through with the pregnancy.

Which meant that she had about eight months to figure out how to save the baby, once it was born.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

Eight months was a very long time to go through, when you had another human being growing inside of you.

And yet, the weeks go by so fast that you barely have time to buy a new pair of pants that will fit your incredibly huge belly.

But Olivia had made it through. Not without pain.

She had lost Frank along the way. Her job, too, but it was her own decision.

The Secretary said that she would be able to go back to work as soon as she was done with the pregnancy. She knew better.

Sometimes, when she felt so tired and sick and depressed by everything that had been done and everything that was to come, she would think that maybe, just maybe, she should give up her child to its grandfather. Let him do whatever he wanted to do, because that was the only way.

The only way to save their world.

The only way for her to live her _life_ again.

But then, she would feel a movement, deep inside herself, so small that she could have been imagining it. But then it was there again, stronger and stronger, and soon she could feel it too when she pressed her hand on her stomach.

This was her child.

She didn't like kids, never had. But this was different.

Against all odds, it appeared that she had a pretty strong maternal instinct. But yet again, it wasn't all that surprising.

Protecting people was a big part of who she was. It was what had led her to the Fringe Division in the first place. Despite the murders now staining her conscience, it still was her deepest desire.

To protect.

And ask a pregnant woman if she would rather save her child or save her world, you would be surprised what she chooses.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

Elizabeth Bishop was going to be her baby's savior.

Ultimately, all the credit went to her own mother, for having the idea to contact her in the first place; but none of this would be possible without Elizabeth.

Marilyn Dunham was the first person beside the Secretary to know about the pregnancy. And before long, despite the risks and her duties, she had told her everything.

Because she was scared, for her life and her child's. And there's nothing quite like your mother's embrace when you are terrified.

"You need an ally inside the 'enemy' side, Olive," she had said. "Someone who can help you. You should try and meet Peter's mother."

Olivia thought this was crazy. Why would _Elizabeth_ _Bishop_ help her?

Turned out that losing a child was something Elizabeth could relate to.

She only met twice with the woman. It was better that way. No attachment; no thinking about how she saw _his_ eyes when she looked at her face, or how Elizabeth was going to have a grandchild that she will never get to see grow up either.

"It's better that way," Elizabeth told her, during that second meeting, only two weeks ago, smiling the saddest smile. "As long as he or she grows up healthy, I know I will have done my part."

"It's a she," Olivia said softly, a hand on her belly, as she felt her move inside of her.

She knew Elizabeth wanted to hug her. To feel her move too.

So to protect both their hearts, she left.

And tonight, her mother was talking to her by phone, as they had been doing for months.

"Elizabeth, it's Marilyn. It's time. She's in labor."

In labor, she very much was, indeed.

She was now walking back and forth in the hotel room, trying to focus on her breathing like her mom had showed her, but she was mostly just dreading the next contraction. Until it hit her.

Then, she just wanted to die already.

"Okay, she'll be there on time. Thank you for everything. I know. I'll tell her."

"What time?" Olivia asked, now standing in front of the wall, forehead against it, because she felt a new one coming.

"4 am." Marilyn answered behind her. "That gives us one hour."

"Awesome," she breathed out, but the word turned into a moan as she tried to breathe through the pain.

Before long, they were out of the room, out of the hotel they had been staying in for the last few days.

Officially –meaning to the Secretary's knowledge, she was at home, resting and waiting for the baby to come, her mother here to take care of her.

The reality was that she had fled her place, her home, her life. The only thing left for her to do was deliver this baby safely.

Over There.

And then, she would die.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

Elizabeth Bishop may not be as smart as her husband, but she still was a smart woman. She was cultivated and married to the man who had written the ZFT, after all.

She knew a lot more about Universes and the upcoming war than Walter seemed to think. Of course, they hadn't had a _real_ conversation in years, decades even.

That was why she knew how to save her granddaughter.

But as she had told Olivia, crossing-over in her state would be…extreme. Her body would do everything to protect her child, and this would most definitely lead to her death.

She had accepted it.

She also told her that she needed to wait as long as she could before crossing over, because they wouldn't be able to bring back similar mass from Over There. When she would die, balance –or something close to it, would restore itself. She had to wait until labor.

This was madness, and Elizabeth knew it.

But she had planned it all for weeks and weeks.

Olivia still had the implants in her body. And through weeks of preparation, Elizabeth had gained access to the lab. She knew how to do it. How to make her cross-over.

How to make _them_ cross-over.

It truly pained her, to know that the young woman was going to die. But she understood all too well.

She would have died too, to save Peter.

And the baby will be safe There.

Her father would be a better man than _his_ father ever was.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

They were in Newark. Penn Station.

Elizabeth didn't want to risk it. She had said it was better to use the same coordinates.

Whatever. As long as it made her cross over and push that fucking baby out, she would go anywhere, really.

Now sitting on the ground like a wounded animal, Olivia was humming, as her mother kept pacing in front of her, clearly distressed. The humming was supposed to help with the pain. Bullshit.

"Mom, just _stop_." She moaned, already feeling so tired.

She did stop, though, only to come and crouch in front of her.

"Baby, maybe you'll feel more comfortable standing up."

"I'll feel more comfortable once it's _out_ of me," she groaned, hitting her head a little too hard against the wall, as she felt a contraction hit her _again_. "Oh gooooooooood, I hate it, I hate it all."

She just hated _pain_.

She felt her mother's hand on her face, and she forced herself to open her eyes again. She saw tears in hers. "Mom, please, don't get weepy on me." She whispered.

But the truth was, now that the contractions had gone –for a few minutes, she was realizing just how fast the end was coming now.

With every new cramp, her own death sentence was getting closer and closer.

"I love you," her mom said in a broken voice, and before she could try and stop her, she was hugging her hard.

It was the most awkward hug she had ever received, seeing how she was still sitting on the ground.

But it was also the most desperate of all.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, fighting her own tears.

She couldn't be weak; she couldn't weep and ask her mother to just take her home and make it all better.

She truly couldn't stop time, or turn it back.

Her hands were glowing red again.

"Mom," she pushed her away a little too roughly. "It's time, I need to stand up."

She hurriedly helped her on her feet, and Olivia got as far from her as heart would allow her to go. The warmth felt familiar under her skin. She remembered that the first time, it had brought some pain; but she had been revaluating her knowledge of pain in the last few hours.

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around her extended stomach.

She refused to look at her mom, as the warmth intensified, and the unique note pierced the air, coming from her hands and back.

But she had to look. As she felt herself starting to shift through the worlds, she stared into her eyes. Her mother mouthed four words, before the air exploded around her.

"_I'm proud of you."

* * *

_OoOoOoO

* * *

It was raining on that Side.

That's the first thing that went through her mind, as she collapsed hard on the ground. She didn't even feel amazed by how her body knew how to make her fall in a way that was harmless to her child.

Pain still rippled through her entire being, and she moaned loudly, curled up on the ground, rain falling hard on her. But she had to get up.

She had to get _up_ so she could deliver the baby.

She was hurting so much, though, and she was so tired.

"Hey, miss!" she heard someone call –who was outside at 4am, really?

Then she felt hands on her. She opened her eyes.

"Oh my god, I'll call 911!" the man almost screamed in the rain, clearly panicking.

She lifted her head and saw that he had indeed stopped his car in the middle of the road; his door was still open, the engine still running.

She turned her eyes back to him and grabbed his arms. "No, please, I need to go to New York."

"Miss, you need to go to a hospital, I… I can't-"

"Please", she begged him, as pain came back. "Please, I need to get to Massive Dynamic."

Of course he listened to her.

That kind of desperate face always had a strange power on men.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

Somehow, she managed to stay conscious the whole way to New York. It was only half an hour away, but when you are slowly dying while a baby is desperately trying to get out of you, you feel every minute of it.

She collapsed as the man helped her enter the building.

She woke up a short while later, in a bed.

Her eyes instantly fell on Nina Sharp. And a mixture of fear and hope coursed through her body. She then noticed the rapid 'bips' coming out a machine next to her bed.

"How's the baby?" was the first thing she asked, her fear intensifying.

"The baby is fine," Nina answered. Her voice wasn't exactly cold, but she clearly didn't know what to do with her. "You, on the other hand, are not. I'm afraid that you condemned yourself, crossing over in your condition."

She closed her eyes, chuckling humorlessly, a distant shadow of her usually smiley self. "Yeah, I know…"

And then, pain invaded her whole body again, and she bent in half, clenching the metal bars on each side of the bed.

"Can't I have some drugs for this, please?" She panted desperately when she was able to speak again, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid we cannot give you anything strong enough to dull your pain, not in your…state."

She closed her eyes and lay back on her pillow, bringing a shaky hand to her face.

"Peter is outside," Nina then said, and Olivia opened her eyes, dropping her hand.

"No…" she whispered. "He wasn't supposed to be…why did you call him?"

She looked at her sternly. "Because _you_ crossed over here, in labor, and I'm assuming that the child is his." Her silence was as loud as a '_YES'_. "Plus, they were already in New York, working a case."

They. That meant the rest of the gang as well.

Olivia shook her head, but she felt incredibly weak, as tears started leaking out of her eyes of their own accord. She felt like she had no more defenses, no more walls to hide behind, no more strength.

All she was now was a vessel.

"Don't bring him in, please," she asked the other woman.

But she knew she had no choice. She had betrayed them all. The only reason why she had come to Massive Dynamic in the first place was because it was closer than Boston, which would have required a four hours ride.

Also, she didn't have to face him if she was in New York and he was in Boston.

She would give birth, and by the time he came to take his child, she would be long gone.

Things didn't always work the way you wanted them to, though.

Nina exited the room then, and she was left alone with her pain. She only took comfort into the steady and rapid heartbeat indicating that her baby was still doing fine.

She heard the door open again, but she was in the middle of a contraction, and nothing mattered but the thousand blades tearing her up from inside.

Eventually, it went away, like it always did; she tried to wipe her face off a little before opening her eyes, but her arms felt so heavy.

Peter was standing next to her bed.

He looked…well, pretty much like he did the last time she had seen him. Both crushed and angry.

Lost.

She wanted to say something. She found out she couldn't open her mouth.

"You had no right to come back," he finally spoke. His voice was cold.

She chuckled again, closing her eyes, ignoring the tears still leaking automatically. "Trust me, if I had another choice, I wouldn't have come back here."

"You know you only have enemies here, Dunham. I wonder what can be worse than _us _Over There."

She wished it didn't hurt so much. She wished it would just stop. She wished for a lot of things, tonight.

She opened her eyes to look at him, putting herself out there. Lying emotionally bare on that hospital bed, because she had nothing to lose.

"Your father wants to kill her, Peter. The baby," she said then. "He wants to use her for the Machine."

It was his turn to close his eyes, hanging his head and bringing a hand to his face.

"I'm dying," she whispered. "I won't be a problem anymore in a few hours. But…please. She needs to be protected."

She was about to say "_It's your baby, too," _but she stopped herself. As far as he knew, he had absolutely no reason to feel obligated to protect this child.

She had used him, manipulated him.

He knew the baby was his already. Reminding him of that obvious, obnoxious fact would only make things worse.

The wave of pain came back anyway, and she shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the big of it.

When she opened them again, he was gone.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

"Olivia, I need you to push again when you feel the next contraction." The doctor instructed her for the third time.

She obeyed. When the now almost familiar pain rippled through her core once again, she pushed with all her might.

She sobbed the whole way through the delivery. Funny, really, when you knew she hadn't shed a tear in _years_ before all of this, not since Rachel had died.

But there was absolutely no point in keeping a strong face on, was there?

Like Peter had told her only a few hours ago, she was dying among enemies.

This was not her Universe. She was in a sterile room, surrounded by complete strangers. The fingers she was crushing in her hand were those of a nurse who only felt pity for her. She saw it in her eyes.

Pity and contempt. That was all she was going to get on her last few minutes.

She thought of her mom, and how she would have helped her through this, whispering lies about how she was going to be fine, and she cried harder, pushed harder.

And then another set of cries filled the room. Strong and furious.

Healthy.

"Congratulation, it's a girl," the doctor announced.

She ignored him. She ignored them all. They held her out, still attached to her through the cord, and covered with blood and other things she didn't care about. She took her.

She took her against her chest, and looked into her eyes.

Green.

Green, and beautiful, and confused. She had stopped crying already, staring at her with those eyes.

Olivia cried some more, but she was smiling too, ignoring the fact that this was the only fleeting moment she would ever have with her child.

She was offering her a look of her own, and there was no pity, no anger, no resentment.

Only the simple innocence of a newborn's soul.

"I love you…" she whispered to the tiny being that was still all hers.

Those were her last words.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

When Peter entered the room, Olivia was already there.

She didn't look at him.

She was staring down at the baby, nestled in the crook of her arm. She was rocking her softly, even though she was already fast asleep.

He didn't know what to say. To be honest, he didn't know what to _think_.

He felt like there were back eight months ago. The betrayal was back, now having taken the physical form of an infant. All the careful steps they had taken toward each other again, they were all gone.

Or so he thought.

She didn't really think about it, though. Not yet. For now, she was too focused on the infant.

She briefly took her eyes away from her to look at him. He could see she had cried.

"She left a note for you," is all she said, indicating the nightstand next to the now empty bed. Then she turned around.

He swallowed hard, but approached the bed, picking up the small note.

"_Please__, name her Elizabeth. She wouldn't be here without her_."

He closed his eyes, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

When he eventually looked up again, he saw that Olivia was quietly crying again. She seemed mesmerized by the baby, who now had her eyes opened.

She simply stared, her lips pressed hard together, as a few tears roll down her cheeks.

"She looks like Ella…"she whispered then.

She never took her eyes away from that child who could have been theirs.

"Elizabeth."

* * *

FIN

* * *

**N/A:** I know I should have said first hand that this was all about Altlivia, but I'm just curious to see how many people will read it through anyway.

I know she's mostly hated in the fandom, and I respect the hatred (I used to hate her quite a lot too). But some us do love her character. Not what she did, not the consequences of her actions in the long run. But she's a person, she's human, she had a life before that Mission, and I simply find her fascinating. I wish the writers had showed us more of what she was made _inside_, rather than simply put her out as the almost heartless b*tch she appeared to be.

I had warned you about the plot bunny haha. Actually, it's a theory that keeps popping up within the fandom –Altlivia being pregnant with Peter's child, that is. And while I would hate for it to really happen, part of me is curious about how they would handle it. This was my take on things.

And damn, I rarely cried that much killing off a character before. I swear I'm still traumatized.

Merry Christmas everybody. Thank you so much for reading my stories. If you're feeling the Holidays spirit, please review :')

EDIT: This is now a Work In Progress story. More to come :D


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything!

**A/N:** Guys, I'm overwhelmed by the responses this story got.

I was hoping for two or three reviews, and now I'm just speechless! Thank you all so much, for reading, for taking the time to tell me what was your take on that theory and on Altlivia's character.

Obviously, I am not done. I couldn't help it, this story was haunting me, and I had to write more. I'm definitely putting it as a Peter/Olivia story from now on.

Just so you know, I'm including some backstory from my oneshot "_Letting It Out_". I don't think it needs to be read, but it totally is part of my own personnal canon right now XD

Let's see what happens from their POVs :)

* * *

**PHASE TWO INITIATED

* * *

**

**Chapter Two**

The red numbers on the nightstand were almost too bright, in the darkness of the room. Olivia just stared at them, everything getting blurry around them.

**3:59 AM**.

She couldn't sleep.

Of course, this was not unusual at all; so not unusual that she didn't even feel the frustration that most people felt when they couldn't sleep.

Sleep was a rare commodity in her life, especially when she was trying to find it in a foreign place, while she was feeling inexplicably anxious.

She knew it wasn't their current case that was bothering her. It had led them here to New York in the first place, but she had dealt with far more horrifying things in the past three months alone.

It wasn't the case. And yet, she felt like something was…off.

The numbers blinked.

**4:00 AM**.

She kicked the covers away with more strength that she intended to, and quickly got out of bed, suddenly feeling restless. She went into the bathroom and got herself some water. But as soon as she started drinking it, she realized that she needed something a little stronger than that.

She stared at her reflection, distractingly biting down her lip. She knew what else was on her mind right now. And _that _something, she could actually explain.

Would _he_ be there? Already sitting on a bar stool, waiting?

It had become sort of a habit, in the last couple of months, ever since that night when she had picked him up, drunk and beaten up. It may have taken them about six months to actually open up to each other, but she couldn't deny the fact that things had been improving nicely ever since that night.

It had a lot to do with the fact that she felt like she understood him now. Her own heartbreak was slowly healing, and she had realized that night that her heart hadn't been the only one that had been broken. Peter was in a lot more pain that he appeared to be, and she found out that it was an unbearable sight.

So she had tended his wounds, let him sleep in her bed, and managed to get him to actually go see a doctor in the morning.

After that, the ice had started to melt around them.

And for some reason, every time they were away for a case –which happened more and more frequently, they always seemed to find themselves in the hotel bar at the same time. Usually in the middle of the night.

Oh, she knew it was a game. Sort of. The kind of game they had been playing ever since they had met…with a pretty imposing hiatus in the middle, due to the Universes not agreeing with them.

Was she always joining him at the bar, because she knew he would be waiting, or was he waiting because he knew she would come find him?

Did it really matter?

As she quickly got dressed again, she thought that no, it didn't. She really needed a drink right now anyway.

He was there, of course.

He was distractedly playing with a full shot of whiskey, obviously waiting for something –or someone. She sat down next to him without a single word, and asked for the same thing. When the shot appeared in front of her, she took it and raised it, finally turning to face him, meeting his eyes.

"To another sleepless night in a nameless hotel." She toasted, touching his glass with hers.

He smiled, and she loved that the playful twinkle was back in his eyes. "To another sleepless night."

They drank their shots in one go, making similar faces. Olivia was tempted to order another one, but she knew it was late and they were supposed to work in a few hours.

"You know, I've been thinking," he told her then, and she looked at him curiously. He didn't use his '_This is serious business'_ voice, so he could very well be about to tell her something absolutely juvenile.

"About what?" She inquired, the alcohol in her blood already helping her tensed muscles to relax a little.

"Well, we find ourselves in New York ridiculously often, and we always end up in a cheap hotel for some reason." He raised his finger to indicate to the barman that he wanted another shot, and Olivia followed, because hell, she still felt too uneasy for her liking. "So I thought we should buy a place."

Olivia, who was about to drink her new shot, abruptly stopped herself, spilling some of the whiskey, as she offered him a very confused look. "Sorry?"

He chuckled, shaking his head: "I mean, Walter and I. Walter _owns_ Massive Dynamic, and so do I, legally. We're what they call "rich studs" or something. We should just buy a place here in the city that will accommodate all of us." He drank his shot.

She stared at him, smiling. "Ah, but then it would mean no more 4am drinks at the hotel bar."

He made a face, "Didn't you just hear me say that I was rich? I can _buy_ a bar and put in the house."

As she let out an honest laughter that made him grin a little too brightly, his phone started ringing.

She drank her own shot while he took the phone out of his pocket. The grin changed into a frown as he saw who was calling.

"Nina Sharp, at 4:30? That's weird." He pressed the button. "Bishop."

She watched him as he listened, and instantly knew that something was wrong. Her own uneasiness came back full force, and she rubbed her hands on her knees, already bracing herself for something bad.

He had turned very pale incredibly fast.

He briefly closed his eyes, bringing a nervous hand up to rub his forehead. "We'll be there in ten minutes." He hung up.

"What is it, Peter?" She hated the obvious worry in her voice.

He finally opened his eyes, staring right at her. They were definitely not twinkling anymore. "We need to go to Massive Dynamics. She came back" He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. "The other You."

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

They were entering Massive Dynamics exactly eleven minutes later.

The ride was eerily silent, except for the sound of the rain falling on the car. Olivia already regretted her two shots of whiskey. She needed a lot more than that to get tipsy or sick, but right now, the liquor in her empty, cramped stomach was making her feel worse.

All she had managed to get out of Peter before he called Astrid to ask her to wake Walter up and join them later was what Nina had said.

"_The Olivia Dunham from Over There just arrived on premises. We have a situation. You need to come immediately_."

Since then, he hadn't said a word, and neither had she. She could feel that unbearable tension coming back. No, actually, it was already there. The tension that had surrounded them for so many weeks, if not months, after he had told her the truth. Nina's words didn't make her feel any better. She had a feeling that things were about to get worse.

She was wrong.

It was even worse than that.

They met her on the 'hospital' floor of the building, as her assistant indicated she would be. It was underground, and it looked like any hospital corridor. As they walked toward Nina, Olivia tried not to to think about what kind of experiments required them to have a _hospital_.

Nina Sharp never was a_ warm_ person, but tonight, she was looking particularly stern and grave.

"Thank you for coming so fast," she greeted them.

"What do we know?" Olivia immediately asked, hating that she couldn't put her finger on what was so _wrong_.

"She came into the building about half an hour ago."Nina answered. "She was not armed, and the man who brought her in was just a random citizen who was helping her; we checked his blood to make sure he was human, but he's still being held for further questioning."

"What do you mean, he brought her in and _helped_ her?" Peter asked then, his voice low and tensed. "Did something happen when she crossed-over?"

Olivia fought really hard to suppress the sting of jealousy and hurt invading her at his words. He didn't even look or sound worried about _her_, but she couldn't help it.

Nina shifted uncomfortably, and this, more than anything else, made Olivia's uneasiness reach a peak. Nina was one of the most composed person she knew, so for her to look _uncomfortable_…

"That is the situation I mentioned on the phone," she started slowly, only staring at Peter. "Miss Dunham didn't exactly come…alone. She's pregnant, and well into labor."

Realization didn't immediately dawn on Olivia. She heard the words, even understood them, but she didn't _understand_ them. Her Alternate was here, pregnant and in labor.

Her brain did the simple math, taking nine months away, finding the time frame. It took her back to when they were still living each other's life.

And then, it hit her. What it meant.

As shock and pain instantly flooded inside her, she automatically brought her hands up to her face, which she could feel contracting.

This couldn't possibly be happening.

Her heart was beating too fast inside her chest, pounding against her ears, and the sickening feeling in her stomach was making her feel weak and light-headed. But the physical reaction of her distress was nothing compared to the _ache_ there, deep inside, where it hurt the most.

She hadn't even realized that she had started pacing, one hand now up in her hair, breathing hard; her coping mechanisms were already kicking in, but she mostly felt overwhelmed at the moment, feeling like the walls were closing in on her.

When she finally focused enough to look at Peter, it didn't help.

While she was clearly having some trouble dealing with the news of that particular Alternate version of herself being pregnant with _his_ child, Peter just stood there. Frozen. He simply stared somewhere above Nina's head, face white.

Oh, she knew that his lack of obvious reaction didn't mean that he didn't _feel _just as bad as she did; he had proven it in the past. Peter kept it in, Peter let it all built up, until Peter ended up in stupid situations –like bar fights.

But for once, she wished he would _show_ that he was upset, that this was not something good, that this was so incredibly wrong.

But he just stood there.

And just like that, she couldn't stand being near him again, finding it hard to breathe.

So she left them there.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

Her first desire had been to get out of the entire building all together.

But when she'd reached the entrance hall, she had realized how hard it was still raining outside. She didn't think she should allow herself to go as low as to wander in the rain, moaning about how messed up her life was.

She was stronger than that, damn it.

So she paced the hall. And paced again, for a very long time. Eventually, Walter and Astrid arrived, and she had to fight the need to get away before they could talk to her.

She was stronger than that.

And the instant she saw the look in Astrid's eyes, she knew that _she_ knew.

"Peter called me," she explained, offering her a sad smile, and Olivia was grateful for that. She didn't think she could speak just yet. So she just nodded.

"Well, I would very much appreciate it if someone could actually tell me what's going on," Walter said drily. "Getting up in the middle of the night, no food in the car, and everybody is treating me like a child."

The word "child" was enough to make Olivia's heart beat too fast again, and she had to turn around, trying to hide just how poorly she was taking this.

"Walter, why don't you go to the cafeteria, you know they're always open. I'm sure they can give you some breakfast. I'll join you soon, Peter too, and we'll explain everything."

Walter grumbled, but the idea of a warm breakfast was too tempting apparently, and soon, it was just Astrid and Olivia again.

Olivia forced herself to turn to face the young woman. After all, they_ had_ become a lot friendlier over the past eight months, and she knew she could trust her.

"Have you seen her?" Astrid asked softly.

Olivia shook her head, smiling, as she always did when she felt a little too desperate.

"Do you want to see her?"

This question surprised her. But Astrid was looking dead serious.

"Why would I want to see her?" she asked, and her voice sounded hoarse after being silent for so long. Plus, her throat was still feeling too tight.

"Closure," Astrid answered with a small shrug, and Olivia started pacing again, her mind reeling. "I can only imagine what it is like for you, and what kind of feelings you must have towards her. But this is your last chance to talk to her before she dies."

Olivia froze, before turning hastily to face her. "Before she dies?" she repeated. "Is she…dying?"

Astrid's face fell. "Oh my god, you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" She insisted.

"Peter told me when he called the second time, I…I though you knew, too." She looked really sorry, but Olivia just felt annoyed because she wasn't getting a straight answer.

"Knew _what_, Astrid?" She snapped. "What's wrong with her?"

"She is dying," she answered softly. "It has something to do with her crossing-over pregnant. Her body is shutting down, and she will die once the baby is born."

Olivia closed her eyes, one of her hand up in her hair again, gripping hard, as she forced herself to breathe in and out slowly, trying to keep it together. But this was just too much. She sat abruptly on one of the chairs, hiding her face in her hands.

Everybody obviously thought that she _hated_ her, this other her. This woman who had stolen her life and her lover and left such a mess behind.

The truth was, she didn't.

She had tried, oh she had tried so hard. Especially in the aftermath of Peter's admission. And she might have, during some angry outburst in her old apartment, her clothes scattered on the floor, along with the broken pieces of her heart.

But ultimately, she couldn't hate her.

She had _been_ her.

It had all been a lie, of course, a result of weeks of torture. But it didn't change the fact that she had lived her life for three weeks. Her memories were still there, in her head, the good and the bad, her successes and her failures.

She had loved the things that she loved and hated the things that she hated; she had been among the people who cared for her, who would die for her, and for whom she cared just as much. She knew that, however different they might be, because of the different paths their lives had taken early on and then later, they were still very much alike in the end.

Deep inside, they were driven by the same things. They shared the same hopes and fears.

Through months of over-analyzing what had happened to her, Olivia had come to term with the fact that _she_ was not a bad person. She had been a good person who had taken the wrong decisions, done the wrong things.

And even then, she knew she had done them because she thought it was for the best, for the survival of her world. Another thing she knew they had in common.

That need to protect people.

But…why come back, then? Why, when she knew that she would not be welcomed warmly, on the contrary?

Why condemn herself to death, knowing that her child would then have to live _here_, among them?

Her hands fell and she raised her head. Astrid was still standing there, looking quite heartbroken.

"She did it for her child, didn't she?" Olivia asked with a shaky voice.

Astrid nodded almost imperceptibly. "She told Peter that Walternate wanted to use the baby for…for the Machine. She came here hoping that we would protect her. The baby."

Closing her eyes, Olivia hung her head, her face contracting again. She felt the most disturbing mix of emotions. She still couldn't fathom the fact that Peter was actually the father of that baby. It was bringing back so much…_hurt_.

But at the same time, she felt torn apart. This was not any random woman they were talking about, this was _her_ and _she_ was dying, dying to save her child, and Olivia knew that she would have done the exact same thing.

Because she _was_ her.

After what felt like an hour, she eventually stood up again, ignoring the shivers running through her body.

"I think I need to talk to her," she finally told Astrid.

Like she had said, this was her last chance.

Her last chance to maybe understand how they could be so alike, and yet so different.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

In the end, Olivia was never able to talk to her.

By the time she found out where she was –in a delivery room, it was too late.

When she came down the corridor, she passed what definitely was a medical crew. One of the nurses was carrying a baby wrapped up in blankets.

She barely caught a glimpse of the infant before she disappeared in another room, leaving her frozen in the middle of the corridor. Eventually, she started walking again, toward the room the nurses had exited.

She didn't go in. She stood a few feet away from the door, wanting to take a peek through the window in the middle of it, and yet dreading it.

A doctor eventually came out, and it was his turn to freeze, when he saw her. And she could see it on his face. The shock at seeing the woman who had just delivered the baby standing in front of him. And yet, he must know, of course; he _was_ a doctor for Massive Dynamic. Still, she knew it was confusing.

"Hello," she said, holding out a slightly shaky hand. "I'm Olivia Dunham."

He nodded, briefly shaking her hand. "Doctor Welse."

He was still staring, but the shock was already subsiding. He surely had seen worse than Alternate versions of people, working here.

"I would like to see her," Olivia eventually spoke again.

He blinked. "I'm…sorry. She died barely five minutes after delivering her child."

Olivia swallowed hard, nodding shortly. She had been expecting it, of course.

It didn't make her feel any better.

"I would still like to see her." She insisted, ignoring the catch in her voice.

He frowned, obviously confused. "Sorry if I sound rude, but…what for?"

She avoided his eyes. "I don't…I just need to."

"What for?" He repeated, and if he hadn't sounded genuinely curious, she might have felt the need to get her gun out. He definitely was a Massive Dynamic scientist. Always so appealed by the unusual, asking too many questions.

So she looked up again, staring at him. "How's the baby?"

"She's doing remarkably well, considering what her mother went through during labor. She's being checked out right now to make sure she doesn't have any lasting damages from the cross over, but it's clear that the mom took the whole blast." He stopped, frowning again. "What is _it_ that you want to know, Miss Dunham?"

She shook her head. "I don't really know," she whispered. How could she even begin to explain with words what it was like, to know that another version of yourself had just given birth and died? "How…how was she? Did she say anything, left any kind of…message?"

He sighed. "She did not. And I don't know what I could tell you that could help you. This was not a happy delivery, if that is what you need to hear. She cried the whole way through, she was in a lot of pain and we couldn't give her anything to help her. The only time she spoke was after the baby was born. She told her kid she loved her and just…died."

Olivia nodded again, a little too much and a little too hard. She felt overwhelmed again, staring at the man's shoulder. "Thank you." She cleared her throat, meeting the man's eyes again. "I would still like to go in, if that's okay."

It wasn't, really. She got in anyway, because she always got her way in.

She entered the room, and the sound of the door closing behind her was almost too loud.

She took a few steps in, trying to ignore all the medical instruments still out there for her to see. She focused her gaze on _her_.

They'd had the decency to cover her body with a blanket. She walked closer.

She knew this was wrong. She knew she was only going to hurt herself, that she should not be here. Just like _she_ should not be here.

But she kept on walking, coming closer and closer, until she was finally standing next to…her.

She raised a trembling hand, and it hovered for a long time over the blanket, her heart thumping against her ears. Eventually, she took the sheet between her fingers and lowered it down, so she could see her face.

And she wondered how many people had ever experienced this.

The sight of your own dead body.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she stared, trying to contain the black hole carving its way through her chest. And she took it all in.

The red hair, still wet with sweat. Her cheeks still glistening with tears that had been shed before her eyes had closed forever. But above all she saw the smile on her lips. She could be sleeping.

Was she dreaming of that child she would never get to see grow up? Of that child who was about to change her own life, she knew.

Olivia didn't know when she started to cry exactly, and it didn't matter. She let the tears roll and fall, engulfed in a sorrow that she couldn't fully comprehend.

She cried for both of them. For everything that had been done, and everything that will never be.

But ultimately, her mind kept going back to that child. She knew she had to see her.

Hesitating slightly, she finally put a hand on _her_ head, and whispered: "She will be safe here."

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

**A/N**: I will focus on Peter in the next chapter, and on how they all deal with the baby and what they decide to do.

Reviews are always more than welcome :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fringe. If I owned Fringe, I would be writing the show, instead of writing fanfics. Oh, and I would totally go stalk on Anna Torv.

**A/N**: Once again, thank you all so much for reading this story. And for reviewing of course :')

I'm in love it. It breaks my heart to write it, but I don't think I could be having more fun as a writer. I hope you all continue to enjoy it. This chapter is big, and it might depress you if you're emotional XD Just a fair warning! :D

Huge huge huge thanks to **Carrie**, my new beta, who did such a fantastic job on this monster.

Also, she pointed out that the beginning could be confusing if you don't remember the episode. So I'm referring to "White Tulip", the 'Time traveling' episode, with the case they never really investigated.

That is all ^^

* * *

**PHASE TWO INITIATED**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

One day, in a house he had never been in, during a case they had never investigated, Peter told Olivia that he had never had 'déjà vu'. That maybe it was because he was not on track with his own destiny.

He didn't remember saying those words, because he had never said them.

The truth behind them was still painfully accurate at the moment, though. Peter felt like his whole life was somehow…_off_.

The most logical explanation for it was that he was indeed not on track. That he was out of sync with the rest of the world, because this was not the world he was supposed to be living in. How else could he explain what kept happening to him? How could he explain the fact that every time he thought he was finding some sort of balance, the earth shifted beneath him, bringing him down?

He spent most of his adult life running around, traveling, working and not working, conning and caring, leaving without a word and putting it all behind him. Until the day he stopped moving. He allowed himself to stay in Boston, to stay among those people who quickly became his family.

But he was out of sync. That much became clear when the truth came out that day on the bridge, and he realized that his whole life had been a lie.

She came looking for him, though. She crossed Universes for him. And with five simple words, and eyes full of fear and promise she made him believe that he would find his balance again, by her side.

On her Side.

And it felt good, for a while. It felt extraordinary, to be honest.

Being able to simply _be with her_. To see her smile so brightly, to hear her laugh so much more often, to watch her sleep, to make her moan, to trace invisible drawings on the skin of her back while she was sleeping. It felt good.

To feel like he belonged.

But he didn't really belong with _her_, did he? Even if they were both in sync, because they were both born on the same Side. She could have been the Olivia he had fallen in love with, had he been living Over There.

But she wasn't.

She was a lie. She was an impostor.

And just like that, the earth shifted again, bringing him down so hard and so painfully that getting up wasn't even temping.

He did it get up, eventually. He wasn't the kind of man who stayed on the ground, especially when Olivia was the one holding out her hand to help him up.

Amazingly enough, they were dancing again, going back to their early interactions. The smiles, the comfortable silences, the long stares. He knew it would take time for them to really find their footing again, but that was okay. He was in no hurry, as long as he could still make her laugh like he did tonight at the bar.

But life obviously had other plans.

Olivia had felt the slight shift of the worlds that night; that was why she was so antsy.

He hadn't.

It all came crashing down on him, like it always did, and before long, he was out of sync again.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

She was different.

And it had nothing to do with the impressive baby bump that he could see under her hospital gown.

Considering the fact that in the two months she had spent lying to him, she had only officially been herself for no more than a couple of hours in his presence; he couldn't say that he knew this Olivia Dunham at all.

Which was pretty damn depressing, come to think of it. He had explored her naked body so many times that he had memorized every beauty spot, every scar, every freckle she had on her skin. But it was what it was.

Skin.

For the past eight months, he had convinced himself that this was all she had been. An empty shell, a soulless monster wearing Olivia's skin, even though he knew she wasn't. Rationally, he knew that she couldn't have been lying every second of everyday for eight weeks. Without knowing, he had been interacting with _her_, surely more often than he would have liked.

But when guilt is burning a hole through your heart like acid burns its way through steel, you try and find anybody else to blame to soothe the pain. And nobody could deny the fact that _she_ was perfect for that role.

It was useless to think about his father, his _real_ father, who had sent her here in the first place, giving her orders through that damn typewriter. His father, who had tortured his Olivia while he had been busy tracing patterns on this one's skin. The Olivia who was now here to mess up his life again. The one he didn't know.

And yet, he could tell she was different.

It was there. In those tears rolling down her pale, sick-looking face, in the desperation he could read in her eyes. The eyes did the trick, he knew.

If not for the red hair and the obvious fact that she was pregnant, it could have been _his_ Olivia lying on that bed. But he felt nothing for _her_. He felt no pity.

He felt nothing.

He felt numb.

"You know you only have enemies here, Dunham," He told her coldly. "I wonder what can be worse than _us _Over There."

He knew she was hurting, and that it wasn't the kind of pain caused by labor.

She opened her eyes again, looking straight at him, and his stomach clenched. She looked so desperate, so helpless, so much like **her**, that bile started to burn his throat.

"Your father wants to kill her, Peter. The baby," she said then. "He wants to use her for the Machine."

He closed his eyes and hung his head, bringing a hand up to his face. He wished he could shut his ears and not listen to her words, to what they implied. He didn't mind the numbness. It was so much better than the deep ache pounding at the same rhythm as his heart when he thought of the implications of everything she was saying.

"I'm dying," she whispered. "I won't be a problem anymore in a few hours. But…please. She needs to be protected."

He kept his eyes closed, until he heard her take a sharp intake of air, and he looked at her again.

Eyes shut tight, face contorted in pain and sheer despair; her hands were clenching her belly as pain rippled through her and endless tears fell from her eyes.

That's when he left.

He wished he could say it was because he couldn't stand spending another minute near _her__,_but the truth was that he couldn't stand spending another second near Olivia in such obvious agony. Whichever Olivia she might be.

It would never be something he could bear.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

"This is absolutely _fascinating__,_" Walter exclaimed, before he slurped the milk-shake he had gotten himself at the cafeteria.

Leaning against the wall, eyes closed, Peter was pinching the bridge of his nose so hard so he could feel his own nails digging into the skin. He had spent the last hour and a half after he had exited _her _room pacing, stopping only to call Astrid to tell her what was happening. He avoided the entrance hall, though, because Nina had told him that was where Olivia had been pacing herself. He knew she wouldn't talk to him at the moment, and quite honestly, judging by his own confusion and misery, he didn't think he could talk to her either.

Walter had just joined him, telling him that he had finally talked to Nina and got the truth out of her. To his question – '_Do you know that the Alternate Olivia is currently in the building pregnant with your child?_'- he had answered a terse '_Yes, Walter_.'

Which had led to his "_This is absolutely fascinating_."

"Fascinating is really not the term I would use, right now," he said dryly, still pinching his nose.

_Slurp, slurp. _"Well, yes, I can understand that from your point of view, it is rather upsetting."

'Earth-shattering' was more like it, actually.

"I'm surprised that you are not with Olivia, though," Walter said then, in a much graver voice.

He took his hand away from his face and opened his eyes to look at him. "Well, the fact that I impregnated her Alternate didn't exactly please her, Walter."

His father stared at him, suddenly looking dead serious: "I am not talking about _our_ Olivia. I am referring to the one who is currently giving birth to your child."

Peter stared back, mind blank for a second or two. Then, pure indignation flooded inside of him. "You're joking, right?"

"I am not," he answered coldly. "She shouldn't be dying alone."

Peter angrily pushed himself away from the wall, glaring at Walter as he came closer to him. "You've gotta be kidding me." He almost growled. "You were the first one to despise her and the use of her _vagenda_ when her cover blew up. Now you expect _me_ to go hold her hand?"

Walter recoiled slightly under his son's fury, but he held his head high. "She wronged us, and for that you have every right to be angry. But I think the fact that she turned against her Side and sacrificed herself to save her child –and ultimately our world- should exempt her of her past mistakes."

Peter considered hitting him for a fleeting moment, blinded by his own rage. But he thought better of it, and turned around instead, banging both his fists against the wall.

"Bullshit!" He growled, moving away from the wall just as hastily, now gripping his own hair.

He couldn't deal with this. This was simply too much, too complicated, even for his own brain and its 190 IQ.

His phone beeped then, telling him he had a new text message; from Nina undoubtedly.

He took it out of his pocket, already knowing what it would say, but reading it anyway.

"_Baby girl born at 6:23am. Mother deceased at 6:27am_."

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall again, fighting the urge to just let his body slide against it and curl there on the floor.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

It took him another thirty minutes to work up the courage to go looking for Olivia.

"She went downstairs to talk to her," Astrid told him when she joined them, shortly after he had received the text message.

Somehow, knowing that she would go there and find nothing but a dead body was a painful image, but he couldn't really focus on any feeling right now. His fit of rage had gone, and he was back to being mostly…numb. So he waited for a while before he went looking for her.

He went directly to the hospital floor, knowing she would be somewhere around there. Since this was not a normal hospital, and there was no reception desk, he walked straight to the nursing station.

He didn't even have the time to open his mouth; as soon as the nurse sitting in there raised her head and saw him, she took in his ruffled appearance and said, "You must be Peter Bishop."

"I am." His voice was a little too hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Do you know where I can find-"

"She's in room 2," The nursed answered, and Peter was surprised that she knew who he was looking for. "Agent Dunham is with her already."

It took his overwhelmed brain a little too long to understand that she thought he had been asking for the baby, not for Olivia.

Right. The baby.

"Thank you," he said, before moving away.

He didn't hesitate before entering the room, the one _she_ had been staying in only two hours ago. He knew that if he stopped there, he would never go in.

Olivia was standing in the middle of the room. She didn't look at him, even though he knew she had acknowledged his presence. She was staring down at the baby, nestled in the crook of her arm, rocking her softly, even though she was already sleeping.

He just stood there, unable to think of something to say. Damn, he wasn't even sure of what he was _feeling_. How was he supposed to _talk_ about this?

She saved him again, by talking first.

She briefly took her eyes away from the baby to look at him. They were red and swollen.

"She left a note for you," is all she said, gesturing toward the nightstand next to the now empty bed. Then she turned around.

He swallowed hard, but approached the bed, picking up the small note.

"_Please, name her Elizabeth. She wouldn't be here without her_."

He closed his eyes, his heart thumping painfully in his chest; the thought of his mother was like a jolt of pain through his foggy brain.

When he eventually looked up, Olivia was crying again. The ache intensified.

He just hated to see her cry.

She seemed mesmerized by the baby, though, barely aware of his presence at this instant. He saw that the infant had opened her eyes. She seemed to be staring back at Olivia, whose lips were pressed hard together, as a few silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

"She looks like Ella…"she whispered then. "Elizabeth."

He had to close his eyes again, hanging his head and taking deep, shaky breaths. Hearing this name, right now, was just too much.

"What are we going to do with her?" She asked softly, but he kept his eyes closed, choosing not to hear the hint of helplessness in her voice.

He could not do this.

He felt like the whole world was moving under him, trying to make him fall, trying to _break _him, trying to prove that he would fail whatever he set out to do. This was just wrong, this should not be.

How was he supposed to deal with this? What were they expecting him to do?

He could not do this.

All of the sudden, he felt warm skin on his face, and he opened his eyes abruptly, raising his head.

She had put the baby back in her bassinet, and was now standing in front of him, her hands on his face.

For a moment, he got lost into her eyes.

"Don't do this, Peter," she whispered.

He shook his head, "Don't do what?" he choked, and he had to fight his need to bring her closer. To simply bury his face in her neck and get lost into her scent until he forgot all of this.

"Don't close yourself up," she answered, and he could see that despite the enormity of the situation, despite everything it was bringing back, she cared for him. Too much to let him drown. He saw it in the way her face was contracting, her eyes still shining with tears. "This…I can't process it either, Peter. But don't run away from it."

He was spared the need to answer by the sound of door opening behind him.

In a flash, she was out of his reach again, and he saw her hastily wipe away the traces of the tears she had shed before.

Now that she wasn't there anymore to keep his mind focused, he was back to feeling incredibly weak and empty. He turned around though, to see who had joined them.

Astrid offered him a sympathetic smile that he could not return. Walter was already making a beeline to the bassinet, ignoring him and Olivia. His wrinkled face lit up as he looked at the child.

"Sweet Lord," he said, his eyes already full of tears, as he smiled his quavery smile. "She's beautiful."

Peter looked away, choosing to focus his gaze on one of the bed's legs instead. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Olivia starting to pace again, arms crossed. The tension in the room was so dense that you could almost hear its crackling sound.

"She looks a lot like you, Olivia," Walter went on, and Peter's head snapped up.

Olivia's pacing stopped, as she closed her eyes, biting hard on her lip. How insensitive was his father, exactly?

One thing for sure, he was completely clueless, since he added with pride, "Of course, I can definitely see some of you in her, too, Peter."

That was the last straw.

"Walter, shut up," Peter ordered him. Apparently, anger was the only intense feeling that managed to get through his hazy brain.

Walter wasn't smiling anymore, and he straightened up, staring hard at Peter. "Well, I'm sorry that this is upsetting you so much, son, but you cannot deny the fact that this child is yours, too."

Peter shook his head, clenching his teeth so hard that he made his jaw hurt.

"_She_ crossed-over Here because she thought you would protect your child," Walter insisted, now using this superior tone of his that he hated so much. "You _are_ her father, like it or not, and you are going to have to take responsibilities for-"

"This child is nothing to me," Peter interrupted him harshly, anger loud and clear in his voice. "I was nothing more than a sperm donor, I don't owe _her_ anything!"

"How typical of you," Walter immediately snapped back, "To simply dismiss what's she's done and dwell on your own misery, rather than face the situation like a man."

His hands curled into tight fists. "Walter," he warned with a growl. "Do not. Go there."

"Guys," Astrid tried to intervene, "there is really no need to-"

"You don't have what it _takes_ to make a good father anyway!" Walter boomed. "It takes guts!"

"Don't give me this father crap!" Peter shouted, pointing a furious finger at him. "You did such a fucking great job at being one that you started a Universal war!"

"Guys!" It was Olivia's turn, but they ignored her, just like they ignored the fact that the baby had started shrieking.

"That's exactly what I am talking about," Walter hissed, coming closer, his face distorted with contempt. "My love for you was so strong that I ignored everything I had ever learned, about balance and nature, about _respect_ for greater forces. I ignored it all to make a breach through the worlds and save you. This child's mother obviously understood that kind of sacrifice. You do not." Then, he turned to face Olivia, who had one hand up in her hair again, and he snapped "And for Christ's Sake, would you just take her and make her stop?"

He was obviously referring to the baby, who was still crying louder than such a tiny thing should be allowed to cry.

Olivia gave him her darkest look of all, but she did bend over the bassinet to pick up the screaming infant.

As soon as she brought her close to her chest, though, the baby made some obvious and desperate attempts to find some food.

"Oh God," Olivia moaned, moving her higher in her arms, all the while bouncing her softly, trying to move her away from an area that would not give her anything. "This is just wrong."

"It is not, actually," Walter felt the need to say, and the only reason his voice was loud now was to be heard over the screams, having already dismissed the argument apparently. "Newborns' sense of smell is incredibly well developed, and they can recognize their mother's scent."

Olivia shot him another killing glare, still obviously overwhelmed by the screaming infant in her arms, eyes wide. "That's exactly why this is so wrong, Walter!" she exclaimed, pissed off. "I am _not_ her mother!"

She instantly seemed to do a double take on what she had just said, temporarily stopping her movements, eyes lost somewhere. Then her face contracted painfully again, as she looked down at the crying infant, and she turned her back to them, rocking her.

But all the rocking in the world would not give the baby what she needed.

Olivia threw a glance over her shoulder's, catching Astrid eyes. "Astrid, can you please-"

"Go get a nurse and ask for a bottle? I'm on it," Astrid answered immediately, and she was out of the room within seconds.

It took her less than ten minutes to come back with both the nurse and the bottle, but those ten minutes seemed to last an hour. Peter couldn't look at any of them, since Walter was back to staring at him with narrowed eyes, while Olivia only had eyes for the screaming baby. And it was incredibly painful to just _look_ at her whispering words of comfort to the child, as if it was her own. So he stared at the bed again.

When the nurse arrived, he barely listened as she explained to Olivia how to feed the child. It was only when she was gone and the screaming had stopped that he raised his head again, briefly glancing at Olivia, whose focus still hadn't changed.

She was the first one to speak, though. Of course.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, to no one in particular. But when no one answered and she raised her eyes away from the baby she was feeding, she looked straight at Walter.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean 'What are we going to do'", she repeated, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "The Other Olivia chose to leave her daughter here with us for a reason. Should we assume that Walternate is going to send Shapeshifters after us to take her back?"

Peter couldn't help but be impressed by how quickly Olivia was already thinking about all of this. He was still pretty much stuck to that moment when Nina had told them about _her_ and her pregnancy.

But Olivia was a step ahead, thinking of the baby's protection.

"That sounds like something Walternate would do," Astrid agreed, looking nervous, as if she was dreading another fight between them. "He's going to want her back."

"She's still safer with us than she would be with that…monster," growled Walter. "How can a man be so cruel, to want to kill not only his own son, but a defenseless child."

"It doesn't matter right now, Walter," Olivia tried to make him focus again, putting the bottle down and bringing the child up against her shoulder. "What matters is her safety. We need to decide what's the safest way to keep her away from him and his soldiers."

Silence fell on the room, and the next sound that could be heard was a burp against Olivia's shoulder.

"Adoption."

All eyes turned on Peter.

He carefully avoided his father's eyes, choosing to look at Olivia's instead, who was still rubbing the baby's back. Her face was blank, but he could see it in her eyes. The storm of emotions.

"Are you simply trying to get rid of your unwanted child, Peter?" Walter asked bitterly.

Peter didn't get angry. He shook his head, still staring at Olivia. "It's the safest way. Walternate will know that _she_ came to us. He will expect us to protect the baby, because…because it's the most logical solution. But not the safest. If even _we_ don't know where she is, they can't find her either."

There was another long pause, everybody looking thoughtful. Well, Walter mostly looked disgusted by the idea.

"Come on, Walter," Peter tried. He was feeling incredibly tired and lost, and he didn't want to fight him anymore. And one thing he was sure of was that he would need his father by his side to get through this. "Use your brain instead of your heart; you know it's the safest way."

And sure enough, his mask of contempt slowly dissolved, as raw saddest took over his whole face and body language.

"The safest way isn't always the best one, son" he said in a heartbroken voice. "The simple fact that you are standing here, alive, proves it. Maybe you should remember the people who ignored their brains to go save your skin. I need sugar. I'll be in the cafeteria."

And on those words, he left the room.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

There was something incredibly disturbing about knowing that your body was being autopsied at that very moment. Even more disturbing was the fact that it was being autopsied by a man you'd been working with for three years.

Thinking about it made Olivia slightly sick, so she tried not to think about it.

Unsurprisingly, Peter had another fit of anger when Walter had come back into the room a while ago, still eating his raspberry jam donut, only to announce that he would _'like to autopsy Olivia's body.'_

Peter had managed to keep his feelings under control as Astrid asked Walter why he wanted to do it.

"Walternate intended for this child to take Peter's place on the Machine," Walter had answered, his face darkening at the mention of his Double. "You can be sure that the pregnancy was carefully monitored. And since I sadly happen to share the same mind with this awful man, it would not surprise me at all if he used those regular appointments to boost up the child's potential through her mother."

"You mean drugs?" Olivia had asked, hands on her hips, as Walter took a big bite of his donut.

"M'yes." He'd chewed. "Before we give that poor baby up to complete strangers who could very well be psychopaths, I want to make sure she's not…special. And I would rather try and find it out studying her mother's body and blood than put a three hour old baby through painful tests."

It would have sounded almost noble, coming from him and knowing his past experiments, if he hadn't had raspberry jam all over his chin.

That's when Peter had left the room. Or rather stormed out of it, muttering a clear _'This is sick'_, before the door closed with a bang. Walter had left, too, to go do that thing Olivia would not think about. And soon, it was Astrid's turn to leave her.

She was with Nina, looking up the best way to insure the baby's safe adoption.

Olivia knew she should be helping them, but Astrid had told her that 'she was on it', like she always did, giving her a knowing look. She was very grateful for the young woman's perspicacity at the moment.

She didn't think she could do this. The simple fact that she was holding the sleeping infant in her arms again –when she could have stayed in her bassinet- was proof enough that this was getting out of hands. She almost wished she could feel the same detachment toward that baby than Peter felt. Because Peter was completely rejecting this child, this much was obvious.

But she couldn't blame him. She knew he was not heartless; he was far from it. He was a good man, a warm and _caring_ man, when he put his heart to it. This situation was so twisted and messed up though, it would make anybody reach a breaking point. And Peter had been through enough already.

She understood all of this. She understood his confusion, his anger and his pain. But at the same time, she had so much on her mind right now, so many conflicting feelings fighting each other that she couldn't understand how he hadn't even really _looked_ at the baby yet.

Olivia couldn't stop staring at her. This child was the ultimate reminder of everything that had hurt her so much for the past eight months. Her mere existence was screaming that someone else had stolen Olivia's life and carried on with it without anybody noticing. Without _him_ noticing.

Logically, she should _hate_ this baby. But she was not thinking rationally as she stared and stared at the infant sleeping in the crook of her arm.

The maternal instincts she always knew she had had been awoken. She loved kids; this much was obvious to anyone who had ever seen her interact with them. She loved their innocence, the way the simplest things could make them burst into joy. She loved the purity of their souls, which was still untarnished by the cruelty of life. It all went away so fast.

She remembered holding Ella just like that, right after she was born. She remembered how amazed she had been, staring at her beautiful, beautiful face, simply in _awe_; she had been so perfect. All those details on such a tiny being.

She felt the same kind of amazement at this moment, as her finger brushed the smooth skin of the baby's cheek, tracing the shape of her ear, grazing her hair –more of it than she had thought would be on such a young baby. She was so light, so small.

She focused her gaze on the baby's hand, using her own thumb to gently rise up one of her fingers, almost mesmerized by the tiny nail there. Perfect again.

But her eyes were quickly drawn back to her face. When she had opened her eyes earlier –green like hers, and _hers-_ she had thought of Ella. Rachel had always said it was almost upsetting how much her daughter looked like Olivia. So it was only logical that this baby, who shared half of her genes, would look like her.

Although, logic and rationality didn't have much impact on her at the moment.

Walter had been right. She could see some of Peter there, too. It was hard to say what her features would be like when she grew up; she was still so young. Would she have his nose? His chin? His brow? Even his eye crinkles one day?

She would never know.

A soft cough behind her abruptly pulled Olivia out of her reverie. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Broyles was in the room -and that he might have been for a while, watching her bond with a child she should not even be holding in the first place.

So she hastily (but carefully) put her back down in her bassinet, and hurriedly wiped her face off, feeling stupid. She then turned around, crossing her now very empty arms, smiling too brightly, and trying to appear collected.

He simply stared at her gravely for a few moments, until she finally let the smile dissolve from her lips. He blinked his appreciation, silently telling her that it was _okay_. She knew she didn't have to always appear strong and composed in front of him. She trusted him, maybe more than even _he_ knew. But in times like this, when she felt like she had no more grasp on anything, it was hard to allow herself to be emotionally bare in front of so many people.

"How is she doing?" He asked softly.

"She's doing fine," she answered, nodding her head. "She's healthy."

He nodded too. "Have you decided what has to be done?"

She briefly pressed her lips together before answering. "We're putting her up for adoption." Her voice caught on the last word and she cleared her throat, pretending it wasn't because her whole chest felt compressed at the thought of it. "It's the safest option. Walternate will send Shapeshifters after her. Maybe not right away, but he will, eventually."

Broyles nodded again, but he narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

She shrugged, then smiled, and shrugged again, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I'm not being very objective, sir." She said almost in a whisper. "All I know is that rationally, it's the safest option. It's for the best."

He offered her a sad, knowing smile. "It's hard to think rationally when you look at her, though, isn't it?" It clearly was a rhetorical question, so she didn't say anything.

She looked back down instead, at that child who wasn't hers.

Her own eyes stared back at her curiously. Elizabeth was awake, and seemed to be looking right back at her.

"It's for the best," Olivia murmured, unable to look away.

* * *

OoOoO

* * *

**A/N**: Is it, really? :'(

Let me know what you think! I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as possible but I'm moving back to the US in 2 days so I might be a little busy lol. Reviews motivate me like nothing else, though, so don't hesitate :D

And Happy New Year everyone :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fringe. If I owned Fringe, I would be writing the show, instead of writing fanfics. Oh, and I would totally go stalk on Anna Torv.

**A/N:**I'm incredibly sorry for the wait, guys! Real Life has been pretty crazy, and it's hard to find the time to write a 15 PAGES chapter (gosh) between work and school. Plus, I wrote another oneshot in between, feel free to go read it XD

Thank you all so very much for reading, reviewing and putting it to your fav/alert. Again, I'm loving writing this so much, but knowing that you are enjoying the ride with me makes it so much more fun :')

I hope you will enjoy this one, as well XD Please don't cry.

**Carrie,**thank you so much for your work on this! :')

* * *

**PHASE TWO INITIATED**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Four**

_"The difference between a coward and a hero- they're both scared. It's what a hero does that makes them a hero." _(Olivia Dunham, Fringe promo)

He knew he wasn't the only man who had fallen in love with her. There was just something about Olivia Dunham that got men trapped like bugs in a spider's web. It wasn't the most flattering way of describing her, but, unusual women called for unusual similes.

He wasn't her first victim, but he did wonder if they had all fallen for the same reasons. This was a stupid thought, and he knew it, but love tended to make you think stupid things pretty much around the clock. And Olivia, she was everywhere, every minute of every day. She was under his skin, and he knew he wouldn't want it any other way, despite the pain that came with that kind of unrequited love. He still liked to ponder the idea that his love for her was unique, and so were his reasons.

She was so fierce. She was unbelievably brave and smarter than you would think at first glance. She was relentless and driven, headstrong and untamable. She was all of this and more, and only a few minutes spent with her were enough to realize that. He loved every one of those traits. But he knew he hadn't fallen because of her strength.

He had fallen because of her weaknesses. Those cracks she hid so carefully. She was an incredibly intense woman, and she never hid the fact that she let her emotions drive her. And yet, she was so intent on making the whole world believe that she was made of stuffso strong that nothing could _really_ bring her down.

She hid behind that smile, and he knew it. Not all the time of course, because this was truly what made her so radiant. She was constantly _smiling_, even when others would have shut their eyes in pain or lassitude. The only way to know if she smiled because she could or should was in her eyes.

How many times had she been smiling after a case, making jokes and punching Charlie's shoulder, when all he wanted to do was go to a bar and get drunk, to forget the people who had been lost forever because of a decision _he_ made? When she had first joined the team, he had been somewhat annoyed by it, by this…_carefree_ attitude. Sure, they all made jokes, too much of them some would say, because it was the only way to keep going without becoming insane.

Olivia, though, she was so vibrant, and full of life, especially next to those people frozen in space and time, sometimes mere feet away from her, that it was almost obnoxious. But he had learned to look again, to look into her _eyes_. He had learned to know her, learned to see what others would miss. She cared a lot more than she would ever admit.

And Lincoln loved her for that.

* * *

He often thought that their job would be much easier if only they had more _time. _Because that was what was missing, for most cases. Time to prepare, time to get the zone secured, and evacuated, time to save everybody. They didn't always have the luxury of _time_.

Best case scenario, the Breach wasn't threatening enough to risk the Universe's walls being torn apart, and they could set up a Quarantine area in a day, get people away, far away, before the smoke was spread. But cases like this happened too rarely.

Most of the time, there was a rush, a frenzy, a need to act _now_, or a whole block could be lost. So they 'Ambered away', while innocent people trying to run and save their own neck were imprisoned forever like mosquitoes. Lincoln had been doing this job for three years, and he still didn't think he would get used to it. Olivia never seemed to have too much of a problem in that area, though.

At least, until tonight.

She had been sort of off all day, and he didn't understand why. Again, it was nothing obvious. When Charlie was in a bad mood, he would let you know right away by throwing you a dark look, chewing countless pieces of gum and injecting himself with anger in his eyes. Lincoln himself was more of a quiet guy, brooding in silence.

Olivia was all over the place, laughing too much, smiling too brightly, to the point when he and Charlie started to exchange confused looks, as they were on their way to a new site – a bad one- and she was laughing loudly to one of the new recruits' dumb comments. Lincoln just knew something was bothering her, and it wasn't about to get better.

If you were part of the Fringe Division, you not only had to be responsible for the death of dozens of people, you also sometimes had to witness their loved ones trying to go back _in_. And when that was the case and there was no other agent around, you had no choice but try and stop them yourself. It was Olivia's turn tonight.

She had grabbed the girl from behind, pinning her arms against her sides by wrapping her own arms around her while the girl fought with all her might and screamed.

"Rachel!" She tried and tried again, wanting to kick whoever was holding her back, but Olivia was strong and she held on, as the smoke started to gather behind the building's windows. "Please, oh please please let me go! I have to get her, please, oh God, Rachel!"

It was over, and everybody present to witness the event knew it. As always, there were people gathered around -those who hadn't fled for their lives- who were now staring at the building, hands covering their mouths, some crying, some angry. Others, like Lincoln, had their eyes on Olivia and the screaming woman. But while most of them were staring at the woman, Lincoln stared at Olivia.

He didn't think he had ever seen her face so…blank. It was like the light had gone from her eyes, and it was such an unusual sight and so different from her behavior earlier that day that he instantly knew that this was one of those rare moments when she was revealing a crack.

That's why he asked her out for drinks as soon as the situation was under control and their day was officially over. She smirked at him as she answered. "Come on, Linc, why bother asking me when you know I can't stand alcohol?"

He smirked back, even if he could tell that her smile was somehow forced now. "A guy's gotta try, right? You won't have to drink anything you don't like, I just feel like doing it for the both of us."

She shook her head, still smiling. "Nah, I was actually planning on doing some shooting."

"Liv," he said, way more seriously that he intended to, and she realized it, her smile faltering a little. "I know shooting is your thing, but getting stupidly plastered on a Friday night is mine. I just think we could both enjoy the company."

"Alright," she eventually said, rising an eyebrow. "I can have whatever I want?"

He bowed his head. "Anything the lady wants, the lady will get."

"Awesome." She gave him a wicked grin. "I was in the mood for coffee."

Two hours and quite a few shots of vodka later, he was getting pretty drunk. She wasn't, of course; the bar didn't serve any coffee, obviously, or he would have been foolish enough to buy her some without a second thought.

Luckily for him, he had never been one of those guys who became excessively annoying when they had a little too much to drink. Actually, as teenagers, his brother would get into so much trouble when they got drunk, because he did the _stupidest _things. Lincoln didn't; he was the good boy. He never really _appeared_ drunk.

But he very much was, oh yes. He felt like he could pretty much say or do anything right now –as long as it didn't earn him a slap in the face. He was feeling relaxed and he had the most beautiful woman in the world sitting across from him, laughing at his words. Life was good.

He was telling her the most ridiculous stories simply because she laughed every single time, way too often; even if he knew he wasn't _that_ funny, he just loved her smile too much to stop.

He was drunk, and feeling bold. So he asked her what he had wanted to ask all day.

"How do you do it?" He asked, chin in his hand, as she took a sip of her third Coke.

"Do what?" she asked back with a grin, and he didn't miss the way her tongue played with the tip of her straw as she stared at him.

He forced his gaze to go up. "How do you manage to always look so happy, even when you're having a bad day?"

The grin on her face froze for a second, but quickly, she was offering him her crooked smile, her eyebrow raised. "And what makes you think that I'm having a bad day, Lee?"

He shrugged, giving her a grin of his own. "I was born with a gift; I look into any Olivia Dunham's eyes, and I know if she really feels like smiling, or if it's just a façade."

_Uh, too much, Lee, too much,_ he thought. Now she was going to turn him down for sure.

Instead she laughed, and tilting her head she bit her bottom lip, her eyes twinkling. "You know, I think you're full of it. I am definitely not having a bad day right now."

God, he could really get lost in that smile. He also could tell that she wasn't lying, and it made him feel very manly, to know that he had brought the light back to her eyes.

"But I was having a bad day," she admitted then, still smiling but averting her eyes. "So, to thank you for turning this day into something quite enjoyable, I'll tell you how I do it. Or rather _why_ I do it."

He didn't say anything; he simply stared at her, as she played distractedly with her straw.

"Believe it or not, I wasn't always that…exuberant." She met his eyes. "I mean, alright, I forced my mother to paint our living room yellow when I was five because I wanted the room to have the colors of the sun, so you can say that I always was a bit of an optimistic." She chuckled, looking down again. "But as a kid and a teenager, I wasn't that cheerful."

"What changed?" he asked, because really, he couldn't just stare at her and not say anything at all, right?

She shrugged, nibbling on her lip again, staring at that straw still moving around in her ice, and her smile faltered. "I had a pretty normal life, you know. Parents who loved me, a sister who was a pain in the butt, but who I loved to death."

The smile completely disappeared, and he felt a sudden ache deep in his chest. He'd known her for almost a year now, and didn't even know she had a sister. Then she met his eyes again, the smile back on her lips. Not in her eyes though.

"And then, like everybody else, I got my load of crap. My dad died when I was six. My mom was sick, and felt like she couldn't take care of her daughters alone…so she found that abusive, drunk guy who loved to punch her around."

He was definitely not smiling anymore, and the ache was becoming really, _really _painful. "Liv," he said softly, because he couldn't find better words.

But she just smiled, shrugging. "Hey, don't give me that look. I'm not telling you this so you can start feeling all sorry for me. We all have our baggage, our share of shitty stories. I'm sure you'd have tons of things to say about your family."

He smiled weakly. "If you knew my brother, you'd see it's an understatement."

She shrugged again, offering him a sweet, knowing smile. "See." She was staring at him too intensely again. "Anyway. By the time I was nine, it was just me, my sister and my mom again. Shortly after that, they found a cure for her. She had MS."

He nodded knowingly. "Multiple Sclerosis."

"Yeah," she concurred. "She was healthy again, happy to be alive, you know? That allowed my sister and I to have a pretty good adolescence." Her smile vanished again as she stared into the distance. "Funny how they can find a cure for diseases like MS, and yet, they can be completely clueless when they have to prevent a woman and her baby from dying during childbirth."

He stared at her. Her mind was miles away from him, at that instant. Despite the alcohol in his blood, he suddenly felt very sober. "Your sister?" he asked softly.

She nodded. "Six years ago, today." A long silence followed before she spoke again. "She was twenty. She was so beautiful, and _happy,_ you know? Always telling me to loosen up a little. She was dead within hours, so was her baby girl. So I promised myself that I would live for the both of us, because she couldn't anymore."

She seemed to snap out of the memory then, looking up at him again, and almost to his surprise, she offered him a wicked grin. "Let's dance," and she was up on her feet before he could even process the brutal change of topic.

"Dance?" He narrowed his eyes, as she started to swagger toward the middle of the room, where a few couples were already dancing closely.

"What? You're one of those guys who doesn't like to dance?"

He was up on his feet in no time; he joined her, not even swaying despite the fact that his vision wasn't that steady. As he put his arms around her and she locked hers around his neck, bringing their bodies closer, she smiled up at him, giving him her happiest grin. He suddenly felt dizzy, and they _did_ stumble a little.

"Are you_ drunk_, boss?" she laughed, tightening her hold around him to keep him steady, and he had a very hard time keeping his hazy eyes from staring at her gorgeous lips.

"I don't think the alcohol is what's intoxicating me right now."

"You're such a flirt," she smiled softly, somehow managing to bring their bodies even closer.

He swallowed hard. Really, she was all over him, and it would soon become very obvious that he was very reactive to her. But despite the wonderful body sensations that she was offering him, his mind was still on what she had told him minutes ago.

"Seriously, Liv," he said gently and honestly, giving her a solemn look, and her smile almost disappeared again. "I'm sorry for your sister. I really am. If you-"

She kissed him, then.

Judging by the way she had abruptly changed the subject earlier, the kiss was clearly a mean to shut him up. And it was so _her_, to throw herself at him like that. And yet there was nothing really rushed in this kiss, no urgency. It was soft and sweet and delicious.

And then her hands ran up the length of his neck and she buried her fingers in his hair, digging her nails in his scalp to bring him closer, their mouths opening, and urgency followed. He held her body closer to his, so close, deepening the kiss and getting lost in her.

Time; he always felt like they didn't have enough time. But at that instant, time literally seemed to stop for him. He was drunk, but she wasn't, and she was kissing him just as ardently. Nothing existed but her.

He was ignorant of everything that would come as soon as she let go of him. He didn't know yet about the boyfriend, about Frank, about how he would pretend the next day that he had been too drunk to really remember what had happened.

There was no mental breakdown yet, no pregnancy, no pain, and no despair. None of them knew that in less than two years, she would be just as dead as her sister.

Time may stop for you, occasionally. Momentum could be deferred, but it must always be paid back, in full.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

_Where is the glow?_

Considering the fact that he hadn't seen her in weeks, months even, it was a very strange first thought to have. But that was what went through his mind as soon as she opened her door.

There was no more glow around her. Pregnant as she was, he would have thought that she would be one of those women who simply shined when their belly rounded up. And Olivia had always been so vibrant.

She wasn't anymore.

She smiled at him, but it didn't even reach her eyes; eyes that looked very reddish and tired, he noticed immediately. His first instinct was to ask her what was wrong, because his heart was already aching too much inside is chest. But they hadn't seen each other in so long; he felt like he didn't have the luxury of comforting her anymore.

It was kind of depressing to realize that you didn't know the person you were in love with anymore. Or that you never really knew them in the first place.

Lincoln couldn't figure out what had changed so drastically; not that it mattered very much. Olivia was different, and it had nothing to do with the pregnancy. Or maybe it had everything to do with it, but he would have no way to know that, would he?

This was only the third time he was seeing her in the last six months. And three times in six months was really _not _enough when you were used to spending at least eight hours a day with someone –and that you were sadly loving that someone a little too much. But the choice wasn't his; it was hers, like it had always been. Ever since she had announced her pregnancy, and then took a leave of absence until the baby was born, she had been avoiding him completely. He had tried to call, especially in the beginning. He worried about her, of course, and he simply missed her. But she rarely answered, so he had stopped calling, trying to ignore the fact that she was still talking to Charlie.

'_She's fine,'_ Charlie would say, giving him a knowing look, because he felt sorry for him. '_Her mom's staying with her now, to help her out.'_

Why was she avoiding _him_? Was it because she thought he couldn't bear the sight of her pregnant with another man's child? The thought was stupid. Learning about it hadn't been exactly fun, but he had swallowed back the hurt, like he always did when it came to Olivia Dunham. This was and always would be a one-way kind of love and he had come to term with it. He wished she could see that he would basically do anything for her, that he was actually _happy_ for her, because this was her life, her future, and he would never be selfish enough to resent her because she was moving on and had decided he wasn't part of the ride.

That was why it came as a bit of a surprised when she called him that night and asked him if he could come over. She didn't say "_Sorry for ignoring you for the past six months_," just _"Can you come over?"_ and he was knocking at her door eighteen minutes later.

And when she opened the door, his first thought was '_Where is the glow?'_

"Hey," she said with a smile, moving to let him in, and his eyes couldn't help but fall on her extremely prominent belly.

"Wow, you're getting there, aren't you?" He said with in exaggeratedly light tone, because he didn't know how to behave around her anymore.

"Yeah," she said, closing the door, glancing at him. The smile was already gone. "Ten days, officially; but it could happen sooner or later."

"Are you counting the days?" he asked softly, because he assumed that her exhaustion was due to the fact that she was _very_ pregnant.

She let out a dark chuckle that he didn't understand then, and made her way to the living room. "Oh yeah, I'm counting each and every one of them."

He followed her, feeling more lost than ever. She sat down heavily on the couch, sighing and closing her eyes, bringing a hand to her face, the other one resting on her stomach. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, feeling awkward and out of place. He hated feeling like this around her, but how else was he supposed to react, exactly?

"I'm sorry, Lincoln," she said then, almost in a whisper, eyes still closed.

"For what?"

She dropped her hand and looked at him. God, she looked so…he didn't know how to describe it. She was _darker_.

"For pushing you out of my life without any kind of explanation, and then calling you out of the blue."

He shrugged, offering her a small smile, but inside his chest, his heart was already beating faster. "It's alright. That's what friends do, right? I'm here whenever you need me."

"I know, and I really appreciate you coming," she said, staring at him; she shook her head then, looking away. "It's not alright, though. Nothing's right anymore."

To his immense surprise –not to say _shockingly_, her face contracted painfully then, and tears started to roll down her pale cheeks. _Tears._

"Hey," he said, coming closer, and not really thinking anymore, he just sat on the coffee table to face her. "Hey, Liv, what is it?" He wanted to do more, so much more. He wanted to take her hands, to hug her, anything to make her stop crying.

She shook her head harder, wiping her cheeks angrily. "I'm _fine_, it's these fucking hormones. I feel like I'm crying twenty-four seven nowadays."

Okay, he knew that hormones _did_ make pregnant women a lot more sensitive to changes of emotion, but for _her_ to be crying like this –and apparently quite frequently– there must be something really wrong.

And he decided here and now that he had spent enough time not asking questions.

"What happened to you, Olivia?" He asked, and his voice was a lot sterner than he intended to, but at least she focused her eyes on him. She chuckled again, that chuckle lacking any kind of happiness.

"Do you want me to make a list?" He just stared gravely, and she sighed, wiping the last of her tears. "I can't tell you."

"Then why did you call me, if you don't want to talk to me?" The bitterness he had felt for the last six months was obvious in his tone now, and she closed her eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to _talk_ to you, it's that I can't." She whispered.

"C'mon, Liv. We are both smart people, both under oath of secrecy because of our jobs. But we both know they are ways of saying things without really saying them."

She opened her eyes, pressing her lips together. "Alright," she said. "Remember my breakdown, about a year ago?"

He simply nodded. How could he ever forget that time when she had been so lost, and he had been so in pain himself, physically and emotionally, unable to help her like he wanted to.

"What if I told you that…I never really had a breakdown? That when '_I'_ was saying this wasn't my life, I wasn't lying? "

He stared at her, his heart missing a beat. He suddenly remembered a conversation he'd had with Charlie months ago, about this. '_What if she's telling the truth? What if it's not the real her?',_ and he was filled with an inexplicable sense of dread.

"Do you mean that she-"

"Stop," she said, shaking her head. "I won't say anything else, think whatever you want, but we can't discuss it."

Her eyes were lost in the distance again, as she rubbed her stomach. Whatever had happened to her, it happened during that time, but there were just too many possibilities, too many implications.

She let out a groan then and her face contracted, her hands tightening on her belly. He instantly straightened up, sitting on the very edge of the table. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed, moving a little, changing position to put a cushion behind the small of her back. "She's kicking pretty hard now, and she doesn't have that much room."

His heart fluttered at the thought of the baby, and oddly enough, it wasn't in a bad way at all. "It's a girl, huh?" He couldn't help but smile. "Already kicking ass like her mama?"

She chuckled, and his smile grew wider because for the first time since he had entered her apartment, it was _genuine_, and even her face seemed to light up a little. "Right now she's more focused on kicking my bladder, actually." She was still smiling softly, as her hand ran slowly over her rounded belly.

"You got a name for her yet?" He asked; he would talk about her baby all night long if it meant she would keep smiling like this.

She nodded, but didn't say anything; he didn't push it, simply staring at her, as her fingers kept going up and down, still smiling softly.

"You're going to be a great mom," he said then. Because he meant it.

He'd expected her to chuckle again at his words, roll her eyes maybe. Instead, and to his surprise, the smile disappeared and all colors were drained from her face, which was contracting again. She closed her eyes, and two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She sighed and wiped them off with a tired hand. He just sat there, feeling incredibly lost again because he didn't understand the pain she was in.

"Liv, talk to me," he said softly.

She remained silent for a long minute, nibbling on her lip, eyes closed. When she opened them again, they were filled with unshed tears and storming emotions. And there it was again. That haunted look he had only seen once before. When she was having that breakdown she apparently never really had.

"Do you believe in God, Linc?" She asked then.

Usually, if someone asked him _that_ question, he would quickly change the subject because he wasn't big on the 'Faith Talk'. If he was with a girl and didn't want to upset her, he would try and make a joke like '_Don't ask a guy with a fancy degree if he believes in something he cannot test in a lab.'_

He had never thought of Olivia as being the kind of woman who believed in God, but again, he didn't know that much about her, did he? But what he knew at that instant was what she was _really _asking. He saw it in her eyes, all over her pale face, what she was really feeling.

Guilt.

This was a feeling he knew well, that's why he could recognize it in her.

"I believe in forgiveness," he answered softly. "Whatever wrong someone might have done, I believe they can achieve redemption."

She stared at him intensely, pressing her lips together again, before she spoke again. "What about murder? Is it forgivable, to kill someone cold-heartedly? To kill one, or two, even three people?"

He stared back. Oh, he understood what she was implying alright, but…this wasn't _her_. Despite his now pounding heart, he refused to believe that she was a heartless murderer. Olivia was a protector, not a monster. He couldn't imagine her killing people just for the fun of it, there must have been reasons behind her actions. And judging by how this was affecting her, she did regret it now.

He didn't answer, so she kept going. "I told you once about my abusive step-father, and I said he was out of our lives by the time I was nine. Wanna know why?"

Again, he didn't say anything because she didn't expect him to, and she gave him a forced smile, half-shrugging: "I shot him. Killed him, actually." She averted her eyes then, her face somber. "Obviously, he started it, beating up my mom whenever he was drunk, which was pretty much every day by that time. And one night, I just had enough, I couldn't stand the mere sight of him; I couldn't let him hurt my family anymore. So I took his gun. Shot him three times."

She made a gun with her fingers and pointed at his shoulder. "One," she pointed at his chest. "Two," and her invisible gun came up to his head, her fingers almost brushing the skin of his forehead. "Three," she whispered.

Her hands fell back on her belly then, and she stared at his knees. "Most kids my age would have been traumatized for life. I wasn't. I told the shrinks I was having horrible nightmares about it so they would leave me alone. But you wanna know the truth?"

She met his eyes then, and her face was cold.

"I loved it. He had hurt us so much, and for so long…that night, I was the one with the gun. I was the one with the _power._ For the first time in years, I was in control; I was stronger than a six-foot tall grown man. And you know what they say, once you've killed once..." Her cold mask crumbled then, her face contracting, looking almost confused. "That's why I was so perfect for that job. _He_ knew. That's what _he_ told me before I left that night. '_I've read your file thoroughly, Olivia. I know that you, more than anyone else, understand the choices and sacrifices that need to be made to protect our loved ones…to protect our world._'"

She was leaving too many things out for him to fully understand what she was saying and who she was talking about, but it didn't matter at the moment. She was crying again, but she didn't even try to wipe the tears away this time, as she stared in the distance, her mind far away from this room. The sorrow coming out of her was so _raw_ that he could almost feel it cut through his skin. He couldn't take it anymore. He moved then, leaving the coffee table to sit down next to her on the couch.

He raised a hand and cupped her wet cheek, and she finally focused on him. They stared at each other for a long time, and all he wanted to do was bring her closer, hold her tight against him, prove her that he was there for her. But she was already so distressed and lost, he wasn't sure she would accept that kind of comfort; he didn't want her to get the feeling that he thought she was weak. Because he really didn't; Olivia was anything but weak. She was simply very human at that instant.

Her eyes dropped to stare at his lips, then, and he instantly felt the energy shift between them. Bringing her eyes back to his, she whispered: "I lied to you."

"About what?" He whispered back.

She offered him a weak smile that was almost sincere. "I didn't call you because I needed a friend. I would have called Charlie if I wanted friendly company. And I wouldn't have kicked my mother out for the night."

Lincoln was getting her signals alright –she wasn't exactly subtle, despite her best efforts. He understood what she was implying, but he wasn't sure he wanted to believe it. This was just too improbable, it couldn't be true. And yet, she seemed to lean even more into his hand, her eyes on his lips again; he could literally feel his body temperature go up.

But the ache in his chest was dominating at the moment; she was not alright, something was very wrong, and he was desperate to understand _what._

"Why did you call me, then?" He asked softly. "Why now?"

Her green eyes met his blue, and he merely got lost in everything that was storming in there. "Because I'm lonely…I'm hormonal. I'm terrified. Because I'm going to-"

But she stopped herself, closing her eyes painfully and shaking her head. "I'm fine." She seemed to be saying it more to herself than to him, and inexplicably, it just broke his heart.

She moved away from his touch, then, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. Like I said, I'm a hormonal mess, like every fat, pregnant woman, and I'm delusional. I'm just gonna-"

It was _his_ turn to shut her up. He grabbed her face again, in both his hands this time, and brought her face closer to his until their lips met. He tasted the salty and bittersweet tang of her tears, and almost felt like crying himself. Her hands grabbed his shirt quite desperately and they lost themselves into the kiss. He only let go of her lips when oxygen seriously started to lack in his brain, but he kept his face close to hers, hating those tears still leaking out of her eyes, and yet loving her so much because she was letting him see _her._

"You're beautiful," he said in a whisper, kissing her softly. "You're beautiful. And whatever happened to you, Olivia, whatever you did…I forgive you. I forgive you."

A broken sob came out of her then, and she crashed her lips onto his again, grabbing his face; and there was so much despair and urgency in her touch, so much that he didn't understand.

But it didn't matter. He didn't need to understand. He didn't need to know who she was right now, what was haunting her. His feelings for her hadn't changed. They were there, and they were real. And he knew this was why she had called him tonight; this was what she was looking for, what she was asking for.

She just needed to feel _loved._

And so he loved her. He loved her in every kiss, in every caress, in every whisper of her name. And for a beautiful, fleeting moment, he believed that she might have loved him to.

Later, he fell asleep against the skin of her back, his nose buried into her blazing hair. One of his hands was resting on her belly, almost possessively; and right before he was taken by Morpheus' arms, he thought that he might love _her_ too.

He was already snoring softly when Olivia slid her own hand over his, intertwining their fingers. Long minutes went by before she spoke, whispering into the night.

She knew he wouldn't hear her, that nobody will ever hear her. But she needed to say it.

"I don't want to die."

The kick she then felt against their joined hands and deep inside herself seemed to answer her.

'_Neither do I.'_

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

Marilyn Dunham never was a brave woman.

The problem was the fear. She simply couldn't function under the smothering pressure of fear; it was like her whole brain shut down.

The fear that you may feel for your children was a different kind of fear, though. It could make the most coward person turn into a tiger, if it meant protecting their child. Or their grandchild.

She knew what was going to happen now, and she didn't care. She was almost awaiting it. Eight years ago, her child was taken from her, along with her granddaughter.

And now, history was about to repeat itself.

She pressed the button on her ear and whispered Elizabeth's name. She answered right away.

"It worked," is all Marilyn said. "She crossed-over."

Only silence followed. Elizabeth knew better than anyone else that no word would sooth her pain now.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come get you? You know what Walter will do to any of us if he finds out we helped her."

"I know. I'm fine. Go. Get away as fast as you can. They won't be able to question me, and if they do, I won't say anything. Not willingly anyway."

"They're going to come and Amber the place."

Marilyn raised her head, staring at the black sky. "I know. I can hear the choppers already." Indeed, the distant sound of flying machines could be heard somewhere into the night, coming closer and closer.

She knew who would come; she was counting on it.

"This was the right thing to do," Elizabeth said softly. "She will be safer There."

Marilyn couldn't answer, blinded by the pain, as a recent memory flashed behind her closed eyes.

She could see her daughter, standing in her living only a few days ago, as they were about to leave her place forever. Olivia had just returned from her last appointment at the Lab on Liberty Island, and her fingers were brushing the bruised skin in the crook of her arm, were they had put needles in her veins. Again.

"_Are you sure you want to go through with this, baby_?" Marilyn couldn't help but asked.

"_This is the right thing to do,"_ she had whispered eventually, her hand leaving her arm to go rest on her belly. "_She'll be safer There."_

Marilyn forced the memory out of her mind because _they_ would be here any seconds now. "Goodbye, Elizabeth. And thank you."

She heard his voice before she saw him, loud and professional over the sound of the helicopters.

"I want science and risk report in three minutes, move it people!"

Marilyn didn't even hide. She hadn't moved from where she had been standing when Olivia had disappeared in a flash of blue light.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, standing in the middle of the road. "Mrs Dunham." His voice had lost all professionalism. He didn't even ask her why she was in street that was surely about to get Quarantined. The first question that came out of his mouth was: "Where's Olivia? I thought you were with her."

She could have smiled. He was so obviously in love with her daughter that it was almost ridiculous. But she didn't smile.

"Olivia is Over There now, Lincoln." She said. "She crossed-over. That's why there was a breach."

"Hey Linc!" Charlie Francis was running toward them. "We got a universal hole to fill up here, what are you-"

But Lincoln raised a hand to silent him, staring at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." She gave him a knowing look. "She told me that she explained part of the truth to you last week. She said you would put the pieces together and understand. She asked me to tell you, once she was Over There."

People were shooting all around them, but both men had come closer to her, ignoring the frenzy, Charlie clearly trying to understand what she was talking about.

"She said she was sorry for not telling you both the truth," Marilyn added with tears in her voice. "But she couldn't risk for you to try and stop her."

"Stop her from doing what?" Charlie asked roughly, his eyes dark.

"From crossing-over," she repeated. "To the Other Side. Her baby would be in great danger here. You cannot trust Walter Bishop anymore. She said you had to _know_, because there may come a time when _he_ sends you Over There to get the child back."

Charlie was almost fidgeting as he tried to process everything she was saying, but she stared at Lincoln, who looked very pale. And she knew he had understood, like her daughter had predicted.

He knew there would be no way back for Olivia.

The shooting got louder and Charlie seemed to snap out of it, remembering what they were supposed to be doing. One glance at Lincoln told him that he wouldn't be much use right now.

"You don't go anywhere," he pointed a finger at her. "We'll talk about this in details as soon as this is under control." And he was gone.

"She's going to die." Lincoln said then, his voice hollow, and she nodded, tears prickling her eyes. "She knew it."

"She has known for weeks, months, even," she whispered. "She gave up her life to save her child's. She said you would understand why she had to do it."

"Redemption…" He said then, more to himself than to her, lost in a memory.

'_**Quarantine **__**protocol imminent.**__** Evacuate the area **__**immediately.**__** Warning.**__** Protocol initiation imminent. Massive loss of life **__**will result.**__** Warning.'**_

"You need to get away from here," he said then, but his voice was still empty. "The Smoke will be released soon."

Marilyn shook her head. "_You_ go now. I will be fine."

He didn't even try and change her mind. He just walked away, soon running towards his crew. Marilyn finally moved and went into a dark alley, just in case Charlie felt like stopping her.

She wasn't being brave. She wasn't doing it to insure that their secrets would remain safe, confine in the Amber with her. She was being quite the coward again, actually.

She didn't want to live in a world where both her babies were dead. She didn't want to live every minute of her life fearing the Secretary. She knew he was driven by revenge; he was restless and unstoppable, and she was too weak.

She was too scared to be brave.

And as the Smoke started to swirl toward her, she thought of Olivia again.

The darkness in her eyes in those last few days had been almost unbearable. Her Olivia, her Olive, who had always been so optimistic, and who had loved life so much since her sister had passed. She had lost her spark. The only other times she had seen that same haunted look had been eight years ago, outside that delivery room in which Rachel lay dead.

And about a year ago, in her own living-room.

"_My mother died when I was fourteen years old, this is all wrong, you're not supposed to be here!"_

She knew now that it hadn't really been _her_ Olivia. She had understood everything when Olivia had explained what had happened; she had understood why she had felt so strongly that something was incredibly wrong with her daughter, but she had been so desperate to keep her _safe_ that she had dismissed it. She wasn't her daughter, but did it really matter?

She was Olivia, too; they both were.

She just couldn't get that image out of her head. Her Olivia, grazing her fingers over the red punctures in her arm, eyes lost in the distance, full of shadows.

Her daughter had known she was going to die. She had lived those last few days with that fear in her soul.

She had been terrified, and yet, she had done it.

Marilyn never was a brave woman; Olivia had always been brave enough for the both of them.

* * *

OoOoOoO

* * *

**A/N**: I know most of you care a lot more about Olivia and Peter and how they are dealing with little Elizabeth, and don't worry, it's coming next.

I just needed to give Altivia some depth (A SOUL! XD), some backstory (and some loving XD), because damn, I just love her character (and i still feel guilty for killing her) ; the show really needs to give us more information about her (and I'm sure Anna Torv wouldn't mind).

Altlivia killing AssStepFather is canon in my head now, just so you know.

I don't even ship Altlivia/Lincoln (even though I do get the shippy vibe and they are adorable), so I hope those of you who do enjoyed it (looking at you Kayla XD) I needed to let him in the secret somehow because he might come back later in this story :p

I won't write about Altlivia anymore…I think.

Oh, and I don't think I'm spoiling anyone because it's been going around for days and days, but most of you must be aware of the renewed rumor, the one I used to write this fic in the first place.

I still won't believe it until I see it (and to be honest, I won't really mind it anymore because I trust our writers blindly; I'm just afraid of the mass reaction in the fandom). Sooo I will keep writing this story, and hope it will stay just a story :D

I'll post the next chapter as soon as humanly possible (and it will all about our side I swear).


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